


Where Do We Go From Here

by cruisingforcruiserweights



Series: The Trouble with A-Double [6]
Category: Pro Wrestling, Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Angst, FaceAustin, HeelNeville, Implied Relationships, Kayfabe Compliant, M/M, this is honestly so light on anything ship related you could probably ignore it??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 15:10:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11808534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruisingforcruiserweights/pseuds/cruisingforcruiserweights
Summary: He had invested so much of himself in that title, that he had forgotten how to function without it. ‘Cruiserweight Champion’ had become as integral a part of his identity as his own name, and without it, what was he?





	Where Do We Go From Here

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heelnev](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heelnev/gifts).



> I woke up in a cold sweat at 2am to a phone full of messages about What Just Happened. It's like my body knew. 
> 
> This follows Monday Night RAW, 14/08/17.

Neville couldn’t remember how he came to find himself backstage, wandering aimlessly with his hand resting weakly on the shoulder where his Championship usually hung, where it _had_ hung less than an hour before. The moment the words “And your new Cruiserweight Champion…” had echoed throughout the arena, his senses had flooded, his ears were ringing and everything seemed too bright and too loud. 

Staggering away from the ring in a daze, he had never felt so empty, as if he had invested so much of himself in that title, that he had forgotten how to function without it. ‘Cruiserweight Champion’ had become as integral a part of his identity as his own name, and without it, what was he?

He encountered no obstacles as he continued to trudge his way through the winding backstage corridors of the venue, no one dared get in his way. Even now, broken down and defeated, he was still feared. If only they knew that at this moment, he barely had the strength to stand let alone confront whatever poor soul made the mistake of crossing him. 

Which was why, as he continued on his path to nowhere in particular, head down and eyes phasing in and out of focus as they gazed down at only a few steps ahead of himself, when another set of feet entered his line of sight, he didn’t even blink, nor shift his gaze to look at the intruder. On any other day, he walked with his head held high, and the masses would scatter around him as he marched through his Kingdom with intense, malicious purpose, and woe betide anyone who didn’t flee his presence quick enough to avoid his wrath.

Now, he moved only to avoid, a confrontation being the last thing on his mind at this moment. Despite what many would likely think, courtesy of the carefully crafted image of himself that he portrayed, he wasn't angry, he was _crushed_. 

Only when he felt a hand reach out and come to rest gently on his arm, and a painfully familiar voice utter a soft, “Hey.” did he finally look up, dark eyes meeting ice blue for the first time in over a month.

His vision suddenly became hazy, and it took him a moment to fully realise it, let alone acknowledge that the reason being was that he was now crying. He stared, completely stunned by the other’s presence there, even as he slid his hand down from where it had been instinctively clutching the spot where his title had once sat, to place it over the other’s just to ascertain whether he was really there or not.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came, his voice catching in his throat as he found himself beginning to sob. He saw the other reach up to place his free hand against his cheek, felt him attempt to wipe away the tears that streaked down his face with the pad of his thumb, only for his gesture to be undone as more began to fall in their place. 

Still, he couldn’t speak, and he found himself grateful beyond words that the other chose to preserve the silence rather than shatter it. He didn’t know why or how he was here, just that at that moment, he didn’t need his words, he just needed _him_. As if sensing this, the other man leaned in to place a kiss against his forehead, before pulling him in for an embrace that Neville found himself returning with all his remaining strength.

Questions about how he had known, or why he was there to begin with all formed and died within moments of each other, his mind only having room for a single thought as the two of them stood there, so completely and utterly occupied with each other that they paid no mind to the stares and remarks of those that passed them.

Where do we go from here?


End file.
